VELVET (June 1998 - September 25, 2013)

This post is out of order, but I am so far behind and I have to write something about Velvet today.  Everyone deals with this stuff in their own way.  Mine is to write way too much for other people to have to wade through to get to the pictures.   Sorry guys, this is my journal and unfortunately, it's online.  If you're not up for sad, don't read it.  If you are up for a good cry and something to boost your faith, you should finish it to the end.

I don't think David or I will ever forget the first time we met Velvet.  That day, March 15, 1999, her name was Muffin, and she had been living at the Humane Society shelter in Salt Lake for about 3 weeks.  She was nobody's first pick.  How very lucky for us.

(it's hard to believe she was once pure black with only a speck of white under her chin)

We had just moved into our first house.  We had decided to get a dog of our very own and start our family.  We definitely weren't ready for kids yet, but I was craving animals after living in a fur-free apartment for 18 months.  David had never had his own pet in his life, but loved dogs.  So, we set out to find ourselves one.

(maybe we were more ready for kids than we thought... we sure liked to dress them up!  poor witch puppy.)

I loved my yellow lab, Spud, who still lived with my parents, so we looked for a lab.  We found a black lab named Patrice.  She was totally cute and very sweet.  We took her out of her pen to play outside to see what she was like.  She could not have cared less about us and only paid attention to the other dogs and other things that were going on.  Hmm..  Take her back in.  I think we checked out a couple more dogs that looked more like full labs but weren't impressed.  As we walked up and down the row, this black border collie/lab mix just kept BARKING at us.  We definitely didn't want HER.  No way were we going to have a yappy dog.  But something drew us to her, eventually, and we took her out since we hadn't found anyone we loved yet.

This was Muffin.  The second the cage opened, she stopped barking.  She obediently followed us outside.  We had her undivided attention.  She only wanted to please us.  She desperately wanted to be our dog.  We threw the ball.  She fetched.  We did it again, over and over.  She loved it.  We called her.  She came.  We gave her basic commands, she obeyed instantly.  We stretched out our hands, she put her head right in and encouraged a pet.  Even better?  Scratch my belly please!  You could not have painted a better "TAKE ME HOME" face on a dog.  She chose us.  She demanded we choose her.  So, we signed the papers and took her home.

 (I remember she used to love to sit like this with her legs crossed, all prim and proper.)

(and she may have had one too many cookies in this picture)

No offense to my dear friend whose nick-name is Muffin, but David and I knew that would not be the name of our dog.  Plus, we wanted her to have a new beginning.  She had been abused before by her previous family.  She was a huge handful and they couldn't deal with it.  David had always wanted a dog named Shadow, so I can't remember why we didn't use that right off the bat.  But, her velvety black ears, as soft as a Christmas dress, just begged for the name Velvet.

We may have said a sour word or two over the next couple of years as we rehab-ed Velvet.  She had severe separation anxiety, submissive urination problems, and was a very destructive puppy.  We knew she could be a great dog if we could train her right, so we set out with all of our energy to do it.  Velvet and I failed our first, expensive, dog school class.  We did it a second time and finally passed.  She was SO smart.  I don't know if I have ever met a dog as smart as she is.  We were only failing because she didn't have enough patience to wait for the treat.  She loved food, maybe more than anything else.

She used to swallow everything whole, never pausing to chew it long enough to enjoy it.  She would sit beside anyone with a plate of food and wait patiently until they dropped some, gave her some, or turned their attention away long enough to steal it.  She was a counter surfer and would jump up and eat anything left within her reach.  Wow, it has been such a long time since she could jump on the counter.  Her favorites of course would be steak, hamburger, pork, and peanut butter.  She had a soft spot for a sugar cookie.  She really really loved sugar cookies.

She loved, particularly, to chew on plastic.  It is SUCH a good thing we didn't have kids when she was a puppy.  They would have had zero toys.  Velvet would have reduced them to bits on a daily basis.  She chewed the mud-flaps off of my truck, the siding on the house, the wiring under the grill, the 220 V feed to the A/C unit on the house.  I'm telling you, she was a nightmare with the chewing and the eating.  For all these years since, I have had to explain to every vet who has seen her why her canine teeth were short little dull pillars in her mouth.  They hadn't been sharp since we could remember.

Velvet loved being outside.  When we lived in Salt Lake, we had to drag her inside for the night in the winter so that she wouldn't freeze to death.  She loved all things about being outside:  the air, sunshine, weather, rain, snow, dirt.  You name it.  She loved hiking, running, going for walks, playing fetch with balls, sticks, frisbees, anything that could be thrown.  She loved water and swimming.  You could not keep her out of a lake, stream, or pond if she got the chance.  She loved to fetch things in the water.

Velvet really was lonely as a puppy though.  David and I were gone the whole day at school and work.   We thought she was such a fantastic dog, and so smart, we promised ourselves that if we had the chance to get another border collie/lab mix, we would get her a friend.  On the last day of school, in 2000, I drove out of the parking lot and saw the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary truck drive by.  I absentmindedly followed it to Cottonwood mall where they were having a big adoption event.  I passed by a litter of adorable black puppies.  The tag on the cage said "border collie/black lab mix."  I didn't even go home to get David.  I took the only female in the litter, Daisy, buttoned up the deal, and took her home.  Shadow's is another story (and it turned out she was neither border collie nor lab), but yes, we finally used the name and Velvet had an instant friend and a sister.

Since then the two dogs have been inseparable.  Shadow has clung to Velvet, literally, from day 1.  She was so tiny at first, that when we played fetch with them, Velvet would go get the ball, Shadow would run with her, and then grab onto her collar with her teeth for a ride, as Velvet ran back to us.  She continued to do this until Velvet stopped playing fetch a few weeks ago.  She always hung onto Velvet's collar, even though, after a few years, Shadow was a bigger, taller dog, who weighed more than Velvet.  Velvet was her mom and her protector.  If Shadow ever got ahead of Velvet on a walk, she would sit exactly in place and not budge until Velvet caught up.  I have never seen one animal respect or love another like that.  

 (yes, the days when we used to let the dogs sleep in our beds and take over the couches are long gone.)

 (Grace loves it when Velvet sleeps upside down, especially with one ear cocked up weirdly.)

(um, I think we covered the dressing up... sure, they're UTE fans!)

Shadow used to love to play tag with her.  She would tag Velvet and then make her chase in circles at lightning speed.  Video troubles.  I'll get it to load later.

Velvet was a guardian for all of us.  After we had Grace, she guarded our house very fiercely.  If the UPS guy, or a solicitor, or worker came to the door, she would stand between my legs and growl at them until they left.  At one point when Grace was just a few days old, she wouldn't even let people we knew into the house.

But, she never, ever, once growled at the kids or laid one tooth on them.  She would get her "razor back hog" hair standing on end down the middle of her back and look as fierce as possible until you shut the door and then go right back to snuggling with someone and licking their face.  She barked at anything suspicious.  I always felt safe with Velvet in the house.  When she lost her hearing a couple years ago, it affected me a lot.  She no longer could hear anything outside and I felt like I had lost my home security system.

Velvet has been our special friend.  Like most dogs, she was always listening for us to come home and standing in the doorway, waiting for us.  Even up until a few weeks ago, even though she couldn't hear... if we came in through the garage door, she could feel it open and would still be at the door to greet us.  In the end, she was just too sick and tired to get up.

Velvet loved adventures.  She went on so many with David and later with the girls.  She loved the mountains, tagging along on a bike ride, long walks by the river at night in MA, going to the barn with me and running around the pasture with the horses.  She loved adventure so much, she often would just take herself on one.  The 5 years we lived in MA, we did not have a fence around the yard, and she would wait for just the right moment to sneak away and go on her own hike.  She always came back, but she scared me to death every time.  She would be gone for hours and return happy as a lark, covered in some kind of poop.  One night, I did look for her until I found her because it was dead of winter and the night temps were dropping fast.  I finally did find her, plowing through the snow, on her way home.  She was always happy when she got home and acted like it was no big deal that she had gone out on her own.

(yes, David took her down the hill)

Velvet loved David's Dad.  They had a special bond.  She was always happy to see Grandpa.  It was killer last night to take her to say goodbye to him.  She wanted to go in the house so badly.  When we picked her up from their house a few weeks back (they had been tending our dogs while we were away) Velvet went out to the driveway to get in the car and then suddenly turned around, went back inside, and went straight to Grandpa Earl for one last pat on the head.

(always at Grandpa's feet)

Grace also has a very sweet bond with Velvet.  She loves Shadow too, but she has always considered Velvet to be her special friend.  Harriet has always been jealous of this and has tried to have the same bond with Shadow.  Harriet loves Velvet to pieces too though, and I think it is even harder for her to figure out where she fits.  Still, she considers herself an equal lover of Velvet and wouldn't hear of anything less.  Grace though, Grace loves that dog in a different way.  As things have progressed this year, I knew the heart-break would belong to Grace more than anyone else.  They were truly best of friends and had kindred spirits that understood each other on unordinary levels.

 (the first time Grace decided to celebrate Velvet's birthday - she made hats for the two of them.)

 (Harriet with Velvet on her birthday this year.)

Absolute Kindred Spirits

I have loved this dog, maybe more than any animal I've ever had.  I thought I knew what to expect to feel in saying good-bye to her.  I have said good-bye to dozens of animals over the years.  But, I have truly never had an animal relationship last as long and be as marked, as the one I've had with Velvet.  I've also never had a pet who lived with me like she did.  She was part of every aspect of my day for 14.5 years.  She was there with her nose when I woke up.  She was there waiting for the milk from my cereal after breakfast (I gave it to her every single day for as long as I can remember.)  She was there when I brought the babies home from the hospital.  She followed me around the house as I got the kids up and ready for the day.  She has stood at the door as I have left and has been there waiting for me to come home.  She has nosed through every grocery bag to see what I bought.  She has been under my feet or between my legs as I have cooked every meal, made every batch of cookies, and done every dish.  She has sat under the high chairs as I have fed the kids.  She has been at my elbow at every meal.  She has waited by the door hoping I will grab her leash and take her with me every time I put on my tennis shoes.  She has sat with perky ears through every movie we've watched waiting for a piece of popcorn.   She has been on nearly all of our camping trips, many of our family vacations, and has slept in my bed or my room every night until this summer.  She finally stopped making the trip up the stairs a few months ago.  But, because of the open floor plan in our house, I could still hear every breath she took, every scrape of her toenails against the fireplace, every jingle of her collar as she rolled over, and in the end, every time the cone around her head would bump into something all night long.  I miss this dog.  It has not even been a day and the reality of how much of my day was spent with her in some way is painfully sinking in.

I posted on facebook that the quiet in the house today is deafening.  I did not truly realize how much noise she made throughout the day and night, or how conscious I was in my sleep, of what she was doing.  I thought with two kids and one dog still left in the house we would have a little more back-ground noise than this.  It was all Velvet.  Even besides her rather grand presence, her more recent ailments really raised the roof. Her breathing had gotten so loud, her licking so frequent (she licked her paws, her tumors, her bed, etc.) her cone made so much noise... It is really crazy how quiet things are now.  This house is too quiet!  I'm going to have to run a bed and breakfast when the kids go to college to keep from going insane.

For those who haven't heard all the gory details, and for the kids to remember later, I think it's important to note her last day.  The day before it, I had tried to take the dogs on a walk.  It has been many months since they were strong enough to go walking with me in the morning with my friends, so sometimes when I get back from those walks, I will grab the leashes and take the puppies around the block for 5-10 minutes.  We went from walking around our WHOLE neighborhood just a few days ago to Tuesday, only going the distance of 4 houses before Velvet started getting tired.  6 houses in on the other street, she was dying to stop.  I let her rest, considered carrying her, but decided to let her finish what would be her last walk.  We walked baby steps around the corner and made our way slowly home, stopping in every patch of shade for a rest.  When we got in the house, she could not catch her breath.  It took her 2 hours to finally get enough air to settle down.  I knew we were in trouble.

David and I talked and decided we should really think about having her put down when the kids had their next break from school.  In 2 weeks during balloon fiesta, they would have 4 days off.  That would be ideal.

The next morning (yesterday), Velvet looked worse.  The kids noticed it.  They were sure though, that she would still love to play soccer, or fetch a ball one time, so she would still enjoy life.  She surely had a few more days.  After they got on the bus, I tossed Velvet's soccer ball to her.  She went to it, but did not bring it back to me.  She just lied down next to her favorite toy and looked defeated.  Her breathing got worse.  Of all the tumors she's had; the grapefruit-sized thing on her leg; the huge one on her hip that was surgically removed once, and then bitten off by Velvet the second time it grew; it would be the one in her voice box that would mean the end.  It had been slowly closing off her airway (making her breathing and panting very loud for about the last year.)  It had obviously, finally grown big enough to make things difficult.  I knew we couldn't make it 2 weeks, so I started making plans for this Saturday and found a vet who could see us Saturday morning.  The kids have missed so much school, we didn't want to interrupt the week.  By the time the girls and David got home, she was even worse.  The girls knew it.  Still, we weren't sure exactly how long she would last.  The 3 of them went on a bike ride while I cleaned up dinner (it's still sitting out in the kitchen.)  I put the first plate in the dishwasher and realized that I would not be loading any more.  Velvet was in big trouble and struggling to breathe.  Her tongue had turned purple.  I laid her down by the stairs - a place where she never chooses to lay herself.  She is either in the corner of the kitchen, or on her bed.  Harriet walked in the door, took one look at her and said "mommy, when I was on my bike ride just now, I had this exact picture in my head.  I knew Velvet was laying on the floor in this spot and was dying."  Grace walks in.  "Mom.  I know you promised it wouldn't be today, but all day at school, I knew it was today.  I knew it."

I've mentioned before how many times we have thought it was Velvet's last day on Earth and were wrong every time.  Also, every time, I was met with 2 kids saying "no!  she can't die!  you can't let her die!"  This time, both kids urged me.  "Mom.  Take her now.  Take her now.  Don't let her die here.  She is in pain.  She can't live like this.  It's the day, Mom.  It's the day."

Who knew it would take my 2 sweet kids to tell me what to do.  But, I could not argue with them.  It was the day, and we did not have much time to do a good job of relieving her suffering.

David's dad had wanted to say good bye.  So, we quickly whisked the dogs over to their house on the way to the 24 hour emergency vet.  They all said tearful good-byes and we set out up the free-way to the East side of town.  As we drove at late sunset, the sky was amazing.  There was a perfect rainbow sunset above the volcanoes in a completely clear sky with Venus sitting just so like a sparkling gem.  I kept thinking, wow, she chose the perfect night to go to Heaven.  Going to Heaven would be really easy to do tonight.  Rainbow Bridge was as visible as it could have been.

The only dread I had left was that the vet would try to offer us other options or scowl at us that we hadn't done enough.  I knew we had done everything in the world for this dog, but a new vet at a 24 hour clinic might not think so.  Thankfully, they were more than kind.  They agreed.  We hadn't arrived a moment too soon, and maybe a few too late.  They were worried she wouldn't be able to handle getting the catheter in before collapsing so they took her to the back room to do it.  They gave us as much time as we needed to say good-bye.  The kids didn't want to watch the procedure, so they took Shadow to the waiting room.  David and I held her the whole time.  Then, Harriet brought Shadow back in.  Grace did not want to see her dead.  She wants to only remember her alive.  Harriet wanted to see that she was pain-free and peaceful.  Harriet was so happy to find that she was.  Shadow was able to see her and understand what had happened.  It went down in the best way that anything like this could.

I have prayed for so long - for the past several years - that it wouldn't happen while David was traveling for work or while our family was out of town.  I have prayed that it would happen at a time when the kids could miss school without too much bother and that it wouldn't be the day of a recital or a performance or a big test.  I prayed that Velvet would choose her day and it wouldn't have to be up to me.  I did not want to make the decision.  She did choose her day, and she did a great job at answering the other prayers too.  David was gone the entire week last week until basically Saturday night.  Velvet waited as long as she had to and then gave us a couple of bonus days to get used to the idea.  Smartest, best, dog, ever.  I am eternally grateful that we were all here and we did it as a family.  David told me to give our kids some credit earlier this week.  "They are stronger than you think."  He was so right.  Even though Grace is in bad bad shape today, they were so brave last night.  I told them how brave they were.  They said "mom, this doesn't feel brave, we are so sad!"  After I explained that being brave meant doing the right thing at the right time even when it was the hardest thing you ever had to do, they were so happy and so sure of themselves. It was a really great lesson for them to trust that God would support them and tell them the right thing and that they could make a decision like that and follow through with something that hard.

Velvet, you just keep teaching our family so much.  How did we ever get so lucky to have you for a dog?  The missing has only just started.  I know it will last for a very long time.  There are so many things I could say about Velvet.  Maybe I will do a separate post of Velvet memories as they come.  I know there are things I'm forgetting right now and for sure, other things that David would want to say.  In fact, if you have your own favorite V-Dog memory, send it to my e-mail or facebook.  That would be cool.

We hope she is galloping around the Pearly Gates with all her doggie friends who have gone before her.  Just in the last year, our fellow dog friends have lost Grizzy, Max, Cozmo, Serendipity, and I'm sure a few others.  We know our awesome Spud was there to greet her too.

Doggie Heaven better have an endless supply of tennis balls, soccer balls, frisbees, grass, trees,  trails, lakes, snow, and soft cushy beds.  Oh, and sugar cookies.  Rest in Peace, our beloved friend.  Until we meet again...